MAKING LOVE TO BUDDY GUY


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to our gasping waltz. Buddys left eye on me is milky, starved, 
so oddly unmoored, hooch-fused. His gut beneath my hand is
an errant gush of rivers. I trace shake down the sudden raised 
               
Make me lose my power?
I don’t think you ever could
Make me lose my power?
I don’t think you would or could 
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